"I think I've seen you before," said the man.
"Where?"
"I can't recall; possibly in some club."
Our hero had detected that he was dealing with a very smart man—a man of nerve and coolness—a man who went slow but sure. He also discerned that it was to be a play of skill and experience in roguery against experience and skill in detective work.
"Let's take a little of their whisky," said the man. "It's about all we can get out of this game."
Oscar, having set out to be led, rose from the table, cashed in his checks, as his whilom friend did, and followed to the sideboard where they were joined by the second man, and number one said:
"My friend Thatford. I don't know your name, sir."
"Woodford Dunne," answered our hero promptly.
"Yes, I've heard the name. I reckon you are acquainted with some friend of mine, for I've certainly heard the name."
The men had poured out their drink, when number one, who had announced his own name as Girard, said: